Various Masks
by Noxtorious
Summary: Sherlock knew something was different about John from the first time he saw him. He just wasn't sure what it was that made him that way. It was starting to make him second guess things about himself as well. A series that mixes the Shin Megami Tensai/Persona universes and Sherlock together in various ways.
1. Shadows

**So, yeah. I've been wanting to do something like this for a long time. The SMT universe in itself is much darker than the Persona universe is, but I feel like they both fit with Sherlock in little ways. I really just wanted to give John a Persona.**

**This is kind of my answer to The Great Game, though I'm sure I'll probably visit it in another way.**

**I'll be using the Persona 4 way of summoning and Persona 3's Shadow types for now.**

**Also, I've been thinking of opening up a forum for this series for discussion and for prompts. I've been debating on the idea so leave your opinion in the reviews! Thanks!**

**Summary: Sherlock thought his pup was many things. Clever, thoughtful, helpful, and in his good days, cute. He would have never guessed that he was supernatural.**

* * *

When Sherlock looked back on the events that occurred, he would wonder how he kept getting into situations like this. Going to look for serial killers shouldn't be so life threatening. He let out a wheeze as the Golem tightening his arm around his neck. He kept hitting him to let himself free, but it was like hitting a brick wall. First of all, a man that size shouldn't be able to move so damn fast. The sound of snarling brought him back to rapidly fading present.

John stood on the opposite end of the stage, his front low to the ground. His ears were flat against his head and his teeth were curled up in a snarl. Sherlock was pleased that John was so loyal and willing to stand by him, but this was not one of those times. He wanted the pup to run to safety. There was nothing that he could do to help him. It wasn't like he could bite the Golem without hurting Sherlock. John knew it by the way he hesitated and let out furious barks at the killer who would no doubt be his end.

As Sherlock faded in and out, his only hope was that John get away before the Golem got to him.

"There's nothing you can do, you stupid dog. Go on and run along."the Golem said with a sneer, lifting Sherlock off his feet and making him scrabble for purchase.

John's snarls tapered off into a high pinched whine as Sherlock's struggles started to lessen. The pup nearly went into a panic and realized there was only one thing to do. He suddenly calmed and relaxed his attack stance. Sherlock was glad John finally decided to run until he noticed something strange. The lights of the projector were being canceled out by a bright blue light. Flames started to dance in front of John, the blaze making his bronze fur looked gold. The Golem looked just as surprised as Sherlock felt that he loosened his grip.

It wasn't enough to escape, but it allowed him to regain some air. The flames dispersed into sparkles and floating in the air was a blue tarot card with a monochrome mask on one side. On the other side showed a woman holding a sword and balance with stained glass behind her. John hit the card with his tail and wisps of blue energy stuck to him as he howled. The energy ran off John until a large humanoid figure appeared in front of John. The first noticeable thing about were the armor. It was an unnatural shade of red, ivory and gold fabric with a cross draping off its torso and between its legs.

Giant blue-white wings extended from its back,but it did not help the figure stay aloft in the air. The strangest thing was that the skin of the humanoid was a shade of teal that somehow didn't clash with its blond hair. Sherlock noticed a distinct old European design to the armor that belong more on a Templar knight. It just didn't make sense or maybe he was hallucinating from the lack of oxygen to his brain.

"I am thou, thou art I. I am Uriel. Thou hast not summoned me in a long time, tiny one." the Persona said in a gentle tone that echoed through the air.

Its body went in and out like static on a bad television. John barked in response and shook his head towards Sherlock and the Golem. Uriel raised his sword and flared his wings, preparing to attack. Sherlock found himself dropped so fast that he couldn't catch himself. He hit the stage hard and coughed, rolling into his side. He hacked and wheezed as air rushed back into his lungs.

"N-No! This isn't possible!" the Golem shouted at John, his body contorting and losing its shape.

What was once a serial killer stood a thickening blob of black sludge. It sprouted giant arms and hands that jutted out from improbable angles. One hand held a eerie blank blue mask that had the Roman numeral I on etched onto the top. It made disgusting clicking sounds that Sherlock could only describe as bones breaking. As his breath started to come back to him, he heard John let out a snarl towards the strange monster. With loud bark towards the armored figure floating in front of him, John watched the monster warily. If Sherlock knew any better, it sounded like a command.

"Agidyne." A large blaze of fire rushed from Uriel's sword and towards the monster. It hit head on and the figure let out a screech of pain, some of its hands becoming charred and started to disintegrate. The monster turned its mask away and leapt from the stage to the middle of the theatre in one bound. It used the chairs as stepping stones and disappeared through the exit without looking back.

* * *

Sherlock realized he must have passed out because the first thing he was aware of was a familiar tongue on his face. He slowly opened his eyes to find two faces peering down at him. He groaned and touched his throat, surprised to feel it was bandaged.

"John."

His pup let out yips of relief and pushed his head against Sherlock's cheek. He reached up with a shaky hand and rubbed John's ears. He could feel his own relief that John was perfectly safe. Now that he was sure he was alive, Sherlock realized that the staticky figure in front of him was indeed real. It backed away as he struggled to sit up and figure out where he was. Finding out how the bloody hell John had 'magic powers' was another problem. He looked around for a moment and from the damp spots on the walls, he realized they were in 221 C.

John left Sherlock to walk over to the figure as it bent down to pet him. Sherlock could see its fingers phase in and out of John's fur yet make no sounds with its armor. It made contact somehow because John pressed into the touch. Wagging his tail, John stepped away crawled into Sherlock's lap. He raised himself up on his hind legs, sniffing at his neck. He licked the bandages a few times, snuggling against his human.

"What are you?" Sherlock said, asking the first question he had of many.

Uriel lifted its head to stare at Sherlock, wings folding in. The fire shooting sword was now sheathed at its side, he noticed. Instead of a sheath, it was wrapped in the loose ends of fabric that was once was a sash. It stood and waved a hand at John, feet never touching the ground.

"I am Uriel, the tiny one's Persona." it said with a short bow, its form fading out for a fraction of a second.

Sherlock stared down at John who gave him a questioning look. The pup was still worried that he wasn't well. Sherlock ignored the warm feeling he got in his chest at that though. He wrapped his arms around him and narrowed his eyes at Uriel. He knew what persona meant. The way 'Uriel' said it emphasized the word like it had special meaning. Touching John confirmed that he wasn't dreaming at least.

"You are a mask that my dog wears? That is quite unlikely."

"All living creatures wear masks. I am a facet of John's personality and part of a mask that the rest of the world sees. 'I am thou, thou art I' is exactly what it means." Uriel's body started to disperse into blue sparkles from the legs up. "You will have to seek answers on your own as my summoning is at its end. Until my next summon, tiny one. "

It reached out and gave John one last stroke along his back before disappearing in a cascade of sparkles. The detective made a face as the sparkles floated around them. Instead of hitting the floor, they disappeared into John's body. Sherlock tried to wrap his mind around the events of the night and found himself puzzled. It was a feeling he was not used to and he didn't care for it. Then again, this made John only more interesting.

He looked down at the pup in his arms and felt a small smile cross his face. John had fallen asleep, half burrowed in his coat. They both needed to get some sleep. Not to mention, he had a few calls to make in the morning. Standing up with a wobbly gait, he held John close and headed for his own flat.

"What a curious thing to have a 'Persona', isn't it John? I'll find out you saved my life tonight."

* * *

**End Note: For a picture of Uriel, check ( megamitensei. wikia wiki/Uriel ).**

**If you wanna know about the Persona series, check ( megamitensei. wikia wiki/Category:Persona ).**


	2. Shadows: Reveled

**Summary:Sherlock wants to figure out how John did what he did, but for once, Mycroft is not the one with answers. He is instead directed to John's former owner, Bill Murray.**

* * *

**Note: This is more like a follow up to Shadows than a continuation. I just love Sherlock trying to deduce Personas with science, kind of like what the Kirijo Group wanted to do. You know, except without altering reality and bringing on the end of the world.**

**Murray is going to be what little the show says about him, my own headcanons and a bit mix of a character from Persona 3. Velvet Room keys for those who can figure it out first.**

**Also, I'm taking suggestions if anyone wants to throw them out there.**

* * *

"Summon that thing again, John. I want to study what it is made out of."

A yawn was the answer to Sherlock's question. This had been going on for the past two days. The detective would throw his theories out of what Personas were based on what Uriel told him. Every now and then, he'd ask John to summon him so he could experiment. John was a very attentive pup on a good day. He never ignored a command that Sherlock gave him. Some days, he would be stubborn, but comply in the end.

When it came to the subject of Personas, Sherlock found himself ignored with extreme prejudice. John retreated to Ms. Hudson's flat when Sherlock asked him to summon Uriel. If their landlady was out, he would pretend he didn't hear Sherlock. It was impossible as one of John's ears would twitch when Sherlock called. He stayed curled up in his armchair or in one memorable instance, growl and retreat to their bedroom. He even managed to lock him out the room.

Sherlock still wasn't sure how John had managed that little feat. It was a experiment to put on the back burner, at least. At the moment, Sherlock found himself staring at a pile of tarot cards on his coffee table. John was off on a walk with Ms. Hudson which left him to his research. He tucked his hands under his chin in their usual position as he thought. These tarot cards did not look like the one John used to fight the Golem. This was ridiculous.

All avenues he looked into came up into dead ends. With a frustrated noise, Sherlock swept the cards to the floor with a sweep of his arm. Even the old religious texts he found to find pictures of Uriel came up empty. None held the resemblance of the staticky form he witnessed that night. He couldn't figure out what type of creature the Golem turned into either. The one person who he knew could answer wasn't answering his calls. Mycroft was probably too busy stuffing himself full of cake to reach his mobile.

Sherlock flopped down onto the sofa and laid himself out. John was being uncooperative as well. The pup had the easiest job! All he had to do was summon Uriel like he did before, let Sherlock run some experiments, and fulfill his curiosity. John did hold a grudge when he turned his favorite rawhide bond into mush to create a makeshift glue. He didn't trust Sherlock not to mess with any of his other toys and always kept them close. If that was the issue, he could forgive John for helping.

John was being just plain unhelpful. A loud vibration took him out his musings and he turns his attention the coffee table. His mobile flashed and Sherlock picked it up before it could fall to the floor. He stared at the screen and couldn't help but narrow his eyes. Of course, now Mycroft wanted to get back to him. He knew Mycroft probably knew what he wanted, but wanted him to wait. It would be just like his brother to lord having information over him.

Nonetheless, Sherlock wasn't going to let him hang up since the information was so close.

"This better be good, Mycroft." he said as he picked up the mobile.

He could hear the shuffling of papers over the line. "You are the one who called me, dear brother. Good thing I was alone when you left me such an unsavory voicemail."

Sherlock stared at his mobile in disbelief for a second. Mycroft was an insufferable prat most of the time. With the way he sounded, he didn't know why Sherlock called. The voicemail he left was deliberately vague since he wanted to ask the questions himself. How would the British government not know anything? He was the one who gave him John to care for in the first place. Obviously, he had to know about Personas and John having one.

"Then you should pick up when people call you. I called you because something happened two days ago and I need you to give me answers."

"Oh?"

"Yes, while encountering the Golem, John summoned what I have been told is a Persona. Also, the Golem himself turned into some kind of monster made up of hands and a mask."

The sound of glass breaking over the line was nothing compared to Mycroft's sudden silence. He knew he was right when he knew Mycroft knew something. Except, he didn't expect this reaction to telling him. Was it supposed to be secret? Was it that the only a few people in the whole world knew about it? Sherlock loved the idea of a mystery being so close and being able to do experiments on it.

"Sherlock, are you sure John did this? If its true what you saw, you can't look into this. Your mental health will be at stake and you will not be happy with the answers you get." Mycroft said seriously, his voice tight with an emotion that Sherlock couldn't place.

"I don't believe that and I won't stop looking until I know everything about Personas. What John did to save my life should have not been possible, Mycroft. Tell me what you know."

There was a sigh followed by sounds of more shuffled papers. "The information is classified and I swore not to tell another living soul about it. I could-" He trailed off with a thoughtful hum and ignored the impatient sound his brother made. "Ah, yes. You can talk to John's former owner. He knows what you want to figure out. Mr. Murray has been wanting to check on John and meet you anyhow. Expect him in the next few hours. I will contact him and explain the situation."

Sherlock could feel the excitement building him and felt a smirk working its way onto his face. His curiosity was piqued on hearing that Mycroft couldn't tell him anything. His brother usually never cared about secrets being revealed, especially if someone told him. For Mycroft to keep a secret like that, he had to respect the man a great deal. Mycroft did have John before him who knows how long and he knew his brother was not particularly fond of animals. Sherlock could have hit himself.

Why didn't he notice it before? John had to have been special for Mycroft to agree to take care of him. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize that Mycroft was calling him.

"What? I thought you were finished." he snapped into his mobile.

"Sherlock, whatever Murray tells you, you will heed his words. This is not something easily deduced and out of your expertise. Frankly, it is out of mine own line of work and something that outside the human influence. I expect you to be on your best behavior. Good day."

With that, Mycroft hung up without letting Sherlock reply. Sherlock stared at the mobile in his hand and mulled over the words in his head. What did Mycroft mean? Did this mean that he didn't actually know what Personas could do? Outside the human influence? The earlier statement about his mental health being at stake was somewhat worrisome.

His brain was his temple and to know outside influence (other than drugs) could do something to it was interesting. Did Personas come from the mind? Did they alter brain activity? He couldn't forget the monster that the Golem turned into. What was that? He didn't get a chance to ask what it was. Uriel was something that he never seen, but the thing the Golem turned into was a product of nightmares.

He couldn't get the image of the various hands scuttling around on the floor like a large spider. At least, he confirmed to himself that the whole thing wasn't a hallucination. He got up from the couch and pocketed his mobile to clap his hands together. He would have his answers soon. Sherlock could hear the door open downstairs and the faint voice of Ms. Hudson along with claws coming up the stairs. First, he had to take care of John.

* * *

Sherlock didn't tell John that Murray was coming to the flat. He figured that the surprise would make John happy. Also, it would put him in a good place with the puppy after badgering him with question for the past two days. John did look happy to see him when he came back for his walk. He nudged the door open with his nose and wagged his tail at seeing Sherlock standing near the fireplace. He pressed against his leg and let out a little wuff to get his attention. Sherlock looked down from his mobile to see what John could possibly want.

John held a muddy stick in his mouth. The mud was still wet since John just came from his walk. The pup didn't let it go until Sherlock took it away from him. He examined the muddy stick and deduced where John got it from. Ms. Hudson took John to the park. No wonder John was so bloody happy. He was trying to avoid taking him and now there would be no choice.

Luckily, he would only need a quick wipe off instead of a full bath. Sherlock bent down and braced himself as John rubbed his head against his knees. Maybe John was listening to him the other day when he said he needed to update his dirt samples around London.

"Did you bring this to me as a gift, John?" he asked, getting a wuff and John wagging his tail faster.

Sherlock couldn't help but give John a fond look and scratch him behind the ears. "Thank you. I do appreciate your assistance. Though I believe the stick is more for you than me, isn't it?"

John looked up at Sherlock and rested his head on his knee instead. He turned his attention to the stick before putting his eyes on the stick. He licked his muzzle and leaned into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock understood that the gift was for him. He let out a chuckle as he stood, placing the stick on the mantle so he could pick John up. He went to the kitchen and made a damp cloth to clean John with. The sun was starting to set and he knew that Murray would be there soon. Sitting in his leather armchair, he held his pup still as he wiped him down.

To think, this year old pup was capable of supernatural feats he had never seen before. Sherlock was a man of science and while this didn't make him a skeptic right off the back, it was hard to think such thing existed. He couldn't write off what he saw with his own eyes. John onto his back and let Sherlock wipe his paws clean, trying to nip at the cloth every now and then. Sherlock wouldn't admit that he was relieved that John was happy with him again. He went to wash John's face when the pup's ears perked up in attention and he rolled back over, sniffing the air. The doorbell rang and he could hear his landlady going to open the door.

"Sherlock! You've got a client!" he heard Ms. Hudson shout from downstairs.

He could hear another voice, a raspy tenor of a man's voice following after hers. "I'm just here for a visit, Ms. Hudson. They're up here, right?"

Sherlock heard the two hold a short conversation before a pair of footsteps started to come up the stairs. When the man stepped into the doorway, he was sure that it was none other than Bill Murray. The man looked nothing like he expected a military man to be. He wore a black button down shirt under a white blazer and denim jeans. Truthfully, he didn't expect John's former owner to look so old. His bronze skin contrasted with his silvery hair that was shaved in a peculiar pattern on one side, held a tuft of auburn on the other side. Sherlock could tell that the man's hair was naturally that silver shade by the beard, but he had to be a few years older than Sherlock.

It was a curious phenomenon. He saw hazel eyes assessing his flat and he could see the military in the man now. He was checking the room for potential danger and exits if things went wrong. One thing that didn't fit with his deductions so far was the bandage near the man's eyebrow. What purpose did it hold? Was he injured recently?

While Sherlock deduced the man standing the doorway, John jumped out his owner's lap. He ran at Bill and leapt at the man without warning. The next thing Sherlock knew that laughter was ringing throughout the flat. Bill was flat on his back and trying to shield his face. John stood on Bill's chest, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he licked his face.

"Johnny! John! Stop, that tickles! You're giving me dog germs!" Murray said between laughs, managing to catch John around his middle and holding him close.

John panted with his tongue sticking out his mouth in a doggy smile. He settled for pressing his nose into Bill's shirt and sniffing him. Bill stood up and held John, giving Sherlock a sheepish smile. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John turned to look at him and barked as if to say 'Look! It's my old master! He's here and isn't this great?'. He mentally shook his head and waved his hand towards the empty armchair. It looked the unexpected greeting from John to break the ice. He waited until the man took his seat before introducing himself.

"Oh, you're the younger Holmes. It's finally nice to meet you. I'm Bill Murray, but you can call me Murray. I was a little worried when Mycroft said he had to give him away, but you obviously were the best choice. I don't think John was even this happy with me." Bill said as he ran his fingers through John's fur.

Sherlock crossed his legs and stared at Murray. He glanced at John and ignored a bubble of feelings that started to come forth. The pup had every right to be happy to see his former owner again. John's breed was social and he liked to be around people, unlike Sherlock. He shoved the feelings away and put on a serious look, not being able to hide the excitement as he leaned forward.

"John has been no trouble. He has been helpful to my work, but this is not about my care for John. I believe that Mycroft has explained why he asked you to see me?" he said.

Bill's happy expression closed off and he stared down at John. The pup returned the gaze and he couldn't help but sigh. It had to be serious if John thought to bring forth his Persona to protect Sherlock. Truthfully, it made him happy to know that John could summon at all after the attack. He gave a reassuring smile and returned to petting him. Sherlock had every right to know and for his sake, he hoped that he didn't go out trying to look for Shadows after he explained exactly what happened.

"Yeah, he told me that you knew about Personas because John and Uriel saved your life. How about you tell me what really happened?"

"Two days ago, John and I were on case to capture the Golem. We had a confrontation and I would have suffocated to death if John did not rescue with his Persona. Then, the Golem turned into some creature that John attacked and it fled before it could destroyed. I was told by John's Persona that he was John's mask."

"What you experienced was John fending off a Shadow. It was a good thing he saved you when he did." He saw Sherlock open his mouth to ask him a question and put his hand up. "I know the question you're going to ask. Yes, the thing you saw the Golem turn into is called a Shadow. They are made from our own emotions so we can never truly get rid of them. I won't go into detail, but there are different types and ranks. They are dangerous and shouldn't be trifled with. They prey on humans, devouring minds or even turning us into one of them. They're just bad news."

Sherlock tilted his head and noticed how Bill shudder when speaking about the devouring of the mind. Did they truly eat people's brains? Did it matter the mental capacity the individual had? Were all Shadows masquerade as humans? Did they hide among the populace and waited for their moment to strike? He wouldn't mind finding one to experiment to see how it worked.

Then again, he did tell Mycroft he would be on his best behavior and he didn't want John to be unhappy. He frowned to himself at his train of thought. The Shadow did nearly kill him and he couldn't forget the eerie mask that it held in its hand. Also, his brother told him to take everything that Murray said seriously. Sherlock hummed to himself, not wanting to lose what he called his greatest asset. He digested the information and gave Bill a nod to show he was ready for him to continue.

"As for Uriel, John's Persona, I'm surprised he spoke to you. Personas don't usually talk outside who they're attached to. John must really love you a lot. Anyways, Uriel knows what he's talking about. In a easier term for you to understand, Personas are a manifestation of one's personality. A good friend once told me they're like a mask we use to face the hardships of life."

It sounded like a pile of rubbish to Sherlock. Too bad he saw it with his own eyes, not to mention he got a more in depth explanation of what he wanted. He let the information settle into his mind and wondered about the very nature of Personas. Did that mean anyone could summon one? Could he? Was it something that was taught or genetic? A innate talent? It brought his train of thought back to the other thing that was bothering him. Where did the tarot fit into everything? Opening his mouth to answer, he was caught off as John let out a few barks.

The pup jumped off of Bill's lap and disappeared down the hall. He came back with his leash in his mouth, dragging the harness behind him. It seems like the conversation had to be cut short as John wanted to go outside. Sherlock rolled his eyes and stared as John came to stand in front of him, wagging his tail.

"No John, don't you see I'm in the middle of gathering data? Can't it wait?" Sherlock said, the answer he got into return was a whine.

Bill laughed and checked his watch. Time really did fly when talking about something he'd been dealing with for the past decade. He had already been there a few hours. He did have some more things to do.

"It's quite alright, Sherlock. I do have a few arrangements tonight that I can't miss. Would it be alright if I walk with you and John since I have to catch the train? We can talk on the way." Bill said, brushing stray dog hairs off his clothes. He smiled and took a slip of paper out his pocket, handing it to the detective. "Also, my number if you have any more questions. I wouldn't mind discussing more with you as long as it stays between us. Plus, I wouldn't mind visiting John again."

Sherlock stared at the number before slipping into his pocket. He watched as Bill bent down and messed with John's ears. He helped the pup get hooked up properly with a fond smile gracing his features. He cooed at the pup and chuckled as John licked his face. Well, this was better than he expected. He had a expert here and he was quite curious if Bill could summon a Persona.

How else would he know about them if he didn't have the ability? Grabbing the leash off the floor, he motioned for Bill to go out the door first. As they head down the stairs led by an cheerful pup, Sherlock decided to go with the question that was on his mind.

"I would not be adverse to that arrangement and John would no doubt welcome it. So, what does the tarot have to do with Personas in the first place?"


	3. The Dark Hour

**Note: Looks who's back and actually writing something? Me! Like, what took so long? It's not what I wanted to work on but I couldn't get the idea out my head. I needed to update this anyway. Just the thought of Sherlock and Phraos having a conversation really was the whole basis of the idea. **

**There's a few of the game lines in there and I think I made Pharos a little OOC but I think it could be forgiven with in his case. Hopefully. Don't know when the next chapter is coming up. I know it'll probably deal with SMTIV, Devil Survivor Overclocked or Devil Survivor: Record Breaker. Leave a review if you enjoyed this. **

* * *

Sleep was becoming elusive again. There wasn't many things that kept the detective from the little rest that he got. A case. Research. Stake outs. Experiments of a dubious nature that tended to involve body parts. The green hue in his bedroom was a change though. Last time he checked, he didn't take any drugs.

Cocaine was a thing of the past. That didn't account for the eerie silence outside as well. Baker Street was generally somewhat quiet at night, but not to this magnitude. No sounds of cars driving past or conversations from passerby. Just...nothing. The street lights outside seemed to be working just fine.

"Hi, how are you?"

Sherlock found himself sitting up in the bed to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Who managed to sneak into his bedroom of all places? At the foot of his bed sat a little boy. A boy that Sherlock was sure he never saw in his life but felt familiar. His appearance was strange enough. Black and white striped clothes covered his thin frame, pale skin even fairer than his own,and a soft wash of dark hair was what Sherlock could read off him.

The beauty mark under his left eye made him a little different than just a pale looking child. But, it was the eyes were what drew him in. Sherlock knew that most found his eyes remarkable. Not even he could pinpoint what color they were most days. This strange child had the most unearthly blue eyes he ever witnessed. That wasn't what was bothering him though. Not the mysterious break in, nor how the child managed to sit on his bed without waking him. It mattered not. He couldn't read anything off the child.

This wasn't like the time with Irene either. She had been naked for one. He couldn't explain the difference no matter how the boy looked at him with such a soft smile in his direction.

"Who are you? You don't look homeless and I know my fair share of them."

In response, the boy's smile widened and he hugged his knees to his chest. Did he say something funny? It was a fair question.

"It's been a while. I didn't think I would ever see you again. I'm glad you are better."

Again? He was better? That couldn't be true. He never saw this boy in his entire life. Sherlock looked for any hint of a lie and couldn't find one. Impossible. There were too many questions to be answered. The child was intriguing and sneaky enough for coming into 221B without alerting anyone. A hand went through sleep mussed curls as he thought of what to ask next.

"How did you get in here then? My window hasn't been touched and I would have heard the front door open."

Those unearthly eyes gained a measure of sadness. The boy hummed and started to play with the hem of his pants. His smile wavered as his gaze turned away to stare out the window. Sherlock followed his gaze and was unnerved by what he saw. The sky was a sickly green and the moon was huge. Bright and uncovered by clouds as if was going to smash into very Earth at any moment. A shiver made its way up his spine at the thought. What a silly notion.

It was a rock in the sky. Rocks didn't have a chilling presence. They didn't have any thought at all. The other thing that caught his attention was the giant tower cutting a dark figure across the skyline. Sherlock had the streets of London memorized in his Mind Palace. He knew where every building was placed and if he was correct, the Met was supposed to be there. Not that...that horror show of architecture. He wouldn't even mention the foreboding coffins dotting the street or puddles of what looked liked blood. A gentle weight against his arm brought his gaze back down to the boy.

Somehow, the child was seated next to him. That didn't make any sense! He didn't hear any movement, no shifting of covers, not even the child's bare feet padding across his wood floor. What the bloody hell was going on? '_Calm down. This is getting you nowhere fast. There has to be a logical explanation for this.' _He had to use what he observed so far. First, there was something wrong with the environment. There wasn't anything psychically wrong with him and he was sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Sherlock took a glance at his mobile on his desk and frowned. The screen was dark even with the charger plugged into the wall. For some reason, anything electronic was not working except for the street lights. Secondly and becoming the most important, the child in his bedroom. No signs of the door being opened, nor the window. He could somehow move without making a sound. A more disturbing part that he started to notice as the child leaned on him was the lack of heat.

His presence was there and he could feel him but, there was no heat. The small body didn't move as to indicate breathing either. Even as he came to all these conclusions, Sherlock didn't know what to think. He looked down at the child and wondered if he had the answers he sought.

"I will ask again, how did you get in here?"

The boy looked up at him with a innocent smile as if he knew Sherlock would ask him that. "I'm always with you. You just forgot me but, I didn't forget you."

Sherlock didn't forget anything. His mind was a steel trap and if he wanted to 'forget' something, he generally deleted it. He deleted various topics over the years. Did he delete his interactions of the boy? It was the only probable conclusion. It seemed like the child didn't have a problem answering questions. He found himself crossing his legs and sending the child a stern look. The last thing the detective would admit was not understanding something.

"Fine, I'll assume for now that you have been following me somehow. I somehow 'forgot' you as well. What is your name? Why are you here?"

A cold hand grabbed his own off his lap and twined their fingers together. Sherlock swore through the biting cold on his hand that he could feel a surge of power. It felt like he was grasping the hand of Death itself. He didn't know how to describe it the feeling of safety that came through the touch. The boy looked so happy just from the simple fact that he was paying attention to him. If it was anyone else, Sherlock would have thrown their touch off. Even the brief brotherly touches he shared with John weren't like this.

"A name? My name is...Pharos." A gentle smile and his hand was pressed against the child's cheek. "This is like the first time you asked me. Before you made yourself unwell. You gave me that look before too."

Sherlock couldn't help but scoff, but he allowed Pharos to do as he pleased. It just felt...right to do so.

"I'm trying to decide if you are a figment of my sleep deprived mind. Maybe John was partially right about putting off sleep for so long." he muttered.

Pharos hummed in response and rubbed his cheek against their clasped hands. He had a feeling that the child was not normally so tactile with others. Somehow, he could picture the child standing at his bedside with those sweet little smiles on his face. Never touching him unless it came to whatever item that caught his attention at the time. These 'gut feelings' he kept getting were starting to wear on his nerves. The child hadn't lied to him yet.

"The one who possesses the Strength Arcana in your Social Link. The doctor and the solider. He's nice. He wasn't here last time. There weren't many of your Social Links last time. It has been so long and I'm glad to be here again."

The overall cheerfulness of Pharos's words almost made him dismiss his strange phrases. Arcana? Social Links? He felt like he knew the phrases. Knew what they were supposed to mean. What they represented. They were important. He found himself squeezing Pharos's hand in return as he rested his head against his headboard. '_Why would I delete something so important?' _

"I see. So not a hallucination. There is no impossible, only improbable. I'll go with you being some kind of spirit for now. Why are you here, Pharos?"

He felt a slight shift at his side and his arm was lifted up for Phraos to curl into his side. The smile was gone from his face and he gave Sherlock a sad look. This wasn't like earlier. There was regret, a hopeless sadness, a dark void that stole Sherlock's breath away. He found himself looking away first to stare up at the ceiling. The words that were spoken next made a sharp pain lance through his head. Like a forgotten door shaking rusty locks off itself in his Mind Palace.

"Soon the end will come. I remembered, so I thought I should tell you."

Sherlock shut his eyes as visions of a sparkling blue butterfly and a ornate blue door overwhelmed his sight. "The end of what exactly?"

"The end of everything...but to be honest, I don't really know what it is."

As much as he wanted to ignore the words as nonsense, he couldn't. That look and sure tone made any debate he had fly out the window. Sherlock wasn't sure what he was remembering but he knew Pharos knew. Just like he knew deep in his very soul that the child's time with him was running out. Opening his eyes, the detective let out a sigh filled with frustration. There was so much he didn't know and knew he had known once with a surety. He went to look down at Pharos only to find him standing at his bedside. He didn't even feel him move away though his body felt frigid through his pajamas where the child had been. His time must be up.

"I expect you to explain what I am remembering when you return. You know that, don't you?" Sherlock said, giving the child a serious stare.

Pharos folded his hands behind his back and gave a short nod, smiling. "Of course. I honor my commitments, just like I expect you to honor yours. Like last time, I'll be watching you. I won't allow you to forget again. See you later."

With those last words, the striped clad boy vanished in front of his eyes. The green haze in the air disappeared and followed by a cacophony of the sounds of the city came rushing back in that instant. Sherlock stared at the spot where Pharos once stood before sliding down to lay on his mattress. He pressed his hands to his eyes to take in what just happened to him. Half finished thoughts and old memories that held a disjointed sense of determination, fear and wonder sluggishly went through his mind. He didn't know what to think. The end...of everything. He couldn't puzzle this out alone.

Sherlock grumbled, pressing his hands harder against his eyes until he saw spots. This would have to wait until the morning. Maybe...maybe if he talked to John about what happened, he could get a grip on what was going on.


End file.
